A Dream Gone By
by Quadrantje
Summary: JC. An encounter with Mark leads Kathryn to see that their relationship is in the past, and that there might be another in her future.


**Disclaimer: this universe does not belong to me, nor does anything in it. No infringement of copyright intended.  
A/N: I was in the bus, free newspaper in my bag, and I realised the question wasn't 'who to confide in' but 'how to make this into a story'. So I got home, took a shower, put on a completely different outfit (skirt instead of pants, barefoot instead of sneakers) and sat down to write.  
Title inspired by _I Dreamed a Dream_ from the musical Les Misérables.  
Summary: an encounter with Mark leads Kathryn to see that their relationship is in the past, and that there might be another in her future. JC.**

**A Dream Gone By**

She lay in bed, thinking. The bed was new and unfamiliar, though the lover in the shower was an old one. It had been nice. After so long, the attention shown her, as attested by the purple of her nipples, had been welcome and heady, but no more. Though satisfactory, there was no love or future in it. And, now that she lay here, thinking, she felt that even as far as they'd gone had been too much. The line between comfortable and too much was two steps back. She'd seen it, but she'd crossed it anyway. And now she was confronted with the knowledge that their relationship was in the past. That man in the shower might be the same he'd been before their separation, or he might not, but she was different, the way she looked at him was different. They might be friends, somewhere in the future, but they would never again be anything more. There was nothing more to say or do, and he knew it too, she'd seen it in his eyes, so dressing quickly and gathering her things, she left before the water stopped running.

Instead of going to the nearest transport station, which was about two minutes from Mark's home, and transport home directly, she took the twenty minute walk to the shuttle stop. She needed to be among people, but without having to talk, to make conversation; public transportation was perfect. It wasn't until she'd boarded the shuttle to her home and picked up one of the free newspaper padds that this mode of transport was littered with when the mixture of finality and shame that she felt began to give way to bits of doubt and pain. Never mind the fact that she hadn't seen him for so long, had moved on, that she didn't even like the Mark she saw now, he was still her friend for so long. Those little things nagged at her: how comfortable she still felt with him, how he confided in her, how he'd been her first long and stable relationship. None of those things were enough for a relationship, or even a friendship, she knew, not together with all the other aspects about him and her, but it made it harder to accept. All she could see as she pretended to read the newspadd were scenes of her and Mark; scenes about their night together that hurt because they felt wrong, and scenes from their lives together that hurt because they were over. Those little things tugged on her heartstrings until she just wanted to wail in agony. If it was a mutual decision, then why did it feel like a rejection? If she was over him, then why did it feel like a sacrifice? If it was the right choice, then why did it hurt so much?

She felt alone, she realised. And it felt like an abandonment or a sacrifice because before this she'd had him. She'd had the illusion of a fiancé to fall back on. Now, she was on her own. Alone.

A beep brought her back to reality. She wasn't on Earth, on a public shuttle, with the scent of her and Mark's sweat on her skin. She was in the ready room, staring at a screen that displayed Mark's Dear John letter. She quickly shut off the letter, freeing her screen to the scientific data about the relay network that had been underneath. Another beep reminded her that there was someone at the door and she quickly called 'come in', pretending to be engrossed in the data on her screen, and trying, when Chakotay came in, to behave like she normally would, talking about containment fields and relay stations. But when he brought up her letter, she couldn't hide anymore. She told him about it, and as she did so stared at his face. Saw his compassion, his empathy. Saw how he cared. And she realised that feeling of being alone, maybe wasn't justified after all. Before she could fully digest that though, Harry called her to the bridge. She went immediately, leaving her confused thoughts behind, for the moment. He followed.

_**Fine**_


End file.
